Zero
by OerbaYunKaika
Summary: London, 1856. A young woman and her husband decide to explore the abandoned house rumored to house a demonic little boy, only to find themselves playing the parents of a similar young boy just two days later. There is much confusion surrounding the origins of this boy, but one thing is certain: he is by no definition "normal". USUK, Devil!America, Devil!England later. Fail summary.
1. Prologue

_Yay for my sudden Hetalia obsession and my first USUK fanfic! This is my first time attempting something such as this ("this" referring to a dark, sort of twisted story). Rated T for now, probably rated M later on._

_To try and avoid confusion, the reason Alice wonders in the beginning, "Did this really come from that boy?" was because the old, abandoned house they were exploring was rumored to have housed a young boy who was the servant of the devil back in 1804. He vanished shortly after this rumor began to circle around, leaving behind only the house and a few items here and there._

_NOTE: The two characters in the beginning are indeed OCs. I'll try not to make them annoying, but they were necessary to get this story started. This idea was not inspired by anything but my English teacher's daily writing prompts. It started with "star gazing" and escalated from there…I have no idea where this story will end up ultimately going, but if you like it, you can thank my wonderful teacher for inspiring me!_

* * *

**London, England. October 19****th****, 1856.**

_The drab, gray-painted walls were covered in what, at a first glance, appeared to be the artwork of a small toddler. Looking around the room, it was hard to believe that a child would indeed live here. There were a few scattered items that proved adolescent life did at least visit, but a few small finger paintings on the wall were not enough decoration to properly address the natural buoyant personality most young children had._

_I sighed as I approached the oldest little painting, setting my lantern down beside me as I kneeled. It was done in surprisingly thin and clean black strokes, and appeared to be a little star encircled by some scribbling I couldn't quite make out properly._

"_Did this really come from that boy? Those stories may be true then…" I mumbled quietly to myself, not wishing to disturb the serenity that the abandoned house contained._

"_Of course those stories are true, you twat," my dear friend and lover Sean whispered from behind me. "This old house is cursed, I'm telling you. Let's get out of here, now!"_

"_You go on ahead," I responded with a little wink and a cheerful smile. "I'll stay a while longer."_

"_I'm not about to leave and let you get eaten by a demon, or some evil spirit, or…or whatever else may be here." Sean firmly gazed into my eyes; unswerving loyalty and love clear as the full moon on a cloudless night shone brightly in his irises. "I'm staying with you, even if I do get dragged into some demonic mess with you."_

"_Come now, it won't be too bad," I reassured him with a goofy grin. "It's not like we're asking for trouble, we're just researching. What could possibly happen?"_

_Just as those words came out of my mouth, the little black drawing began to glow a vibrant purple, releasing a soft humming that chilled me to the bone, yet soothed me at the same time. I felt an otherworldly sort of energy flow out, and, curiously, rested my hand in the center of the circle. My vision instantly went black, but I was still very much conscious; instead of staying blind, I saw a young boy, about 6-years-old, sitting in a similarly drab room on a lovely, clear night._

_He was a frail looking child, but his emerald eyes held a hidden fire that showed he was much stronger than he appeared. His choppy blond bangs fell around his bushy eyebrows attractively, and his lips mumbled words I could not hear. For some reason, I felt a strange sense of maternal instinct surge through me at the sight of him._

"_Oh, poppet…you're so beautiful," I heard myself whisper._

_As if he could hear me, he stared right at me and smiled: a loving, beaming smile that made me grin out of sheer joy. He walked over happily, and kneeled in front of me._

"_You're the first one who hasn't been scared," he mused in an adorable voice. He was clearly English, like me, which made my grin wider if that were even possible._

_He tugged on his coat sleeve shyly as he asked, "Are you…m-my mother?"_

_My heart nearly broke at the sad, hesitant tone in his voice. I wanted to just hold him and soothingly rub his back, like my mother did to me._

"_I don't think I am biologically," I answered truthfully. "But, dammit, if it's a mother you want, then I'll be your mother."_

_His smile returned full-heartedly. "Can I…come live with you? Or would you rather come live with me?"_

"_Whatever makes you happy, love."_

_He nodded. "I'll come to see you soon! Don't forget, okay?"_

_I chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of it."_

_He grinned as my vision faded black again, and then returned to see Sean shaking me furiously by the shoulders, yelling my name._

"_Alice! Snap out of it!"_

_I grabbed his wrist gently. "I'm here, Sean."_

_He stopped shaking me and pulled me into his arms, sniffling and burrowing his head into my neck. I wrapped my arms around him and ran my hands along his back, whispering soothing little things._

"_I-I thought I was going to lose you…" he choked out through little sobs._

"_You'll never lose me, love." I held him tighter as if to confirm this. "In fact, I have something incredible to tell you."_

"_Wh-what?" His curiosity overcame his sorrow as he peered up at me._

_I gave him a beaming smile, and told him, "We're having a child."_

* * *

**Oxford, England. October 21****st****, 1856.**

"_You're telling me a little boy is going to appear on our doorstep, insisting you're his mother?"_

"_I _am _his mother," I reminded him with a frown. "Not biologically, but I already feel a strong maternal bond with him nonetheless."_

"_You've gone mad," Sean stated matter-of-factly. "You had a delusion, and I'll bet it was because of that demonic spirit I sensed in the house!"_

_I sighed, because Sean was once again transitioning from the calm, sweet lover I called my husband to the church-loving fool I hated to be around. I didn't have anything against the church, but dammit all, if I wanted to believe the vision of that beautiful blond boy, then so be it!_

_Just as I was about to make a rebuttal, there was a knock on the door. I rushed over and answered it quickly, only to have my heart fill with joy. Standing right before me was the little boy, still looking practically angelic, his big green eyes overflowing with bright happiness. I immediately scooped him up in my arms, cuddling him as his legs gently curled around my waist._

"_Oh, I'm so glad to see you, poppet," I cooed sweetly. "What's your name?"_

"_Arthur," he said in that adorable little voice._

_I carried him over to Sean, smirking victoriously. The look of absolute disbelief he had was priceless._

"_There's no possible way…he's not our son!" he roared._

_Arthur's eyes began to fill with tears. I ran a hand through his hair and soothed him._

"_Don't you mind daddy. He's just a little cranky."_

"_O-okay, mommy." Arthur rubbed at his eyes. "Can I sleep?"_

_I nodded and carried him to our small guest room, despite Sean's protests. I lay him down on the bed and tucked him in, giving his forehead a loving kiss. As I was about to leave, he grabbed my dress sleeve. I looked back at him, seeing an evil little glint in his eye._

"_You'll love me no matter what, right mommy?" he asked, his adorable tone abandoned for one of clearly dark intentions._

_I sat beside him on the bed, caressing his hair. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that he had evil intentions, but I still couldn't help but let that wonderful motherly instinct of protectiveness control my actions._

"_I'll always love you, Artie," I assured him. "No matter what daddy thinks, you'll always be special to me. But listen to me: don't hurt anyone. Ever."_

_His lips curled into a small pout but he nodded._

"_Okay…but only because you'll always be there for me."_

"_Good boy. Now get some sleep, love."_

_Arthur nodded and lay back once more, curling up sweetly. I stood once more and walked out to see Sean waiting there. A deep frown graced his features, but I saw that little forgiving and accepting quirk in his eyes that he had whenever I won an argument. I smiled and pecked his lips._

"_You'll love him, I promise you."_

"_I'll love him because you do."_

* * *

_Arthur listened to the conversation between his new parents with a little smirk. He couldn't have been more pleased with how this had turned out. The woman was actually smitten with him without him having to use anything but his natural charm. To add to his good fortune, she also looked quite a bit like him, sharing his blonde hair and having hazel eyes. He liked her: he wouldn't dare hurt his new mommy. But the father…_

_Arthur frowned as he thought about how to get on his good side. He had at least agreed to keep him, that was a big enough battle to win for now. But if he had any chance of pursuing what he wished, he would have to earn his good graces. Perhaps a little mishap, in which Arthur emerged the savior…_

_The blond fell asleep with a devilish little smile, plotting even in his dreams._

* * *

_Well, there you have it! Not the most exciting thing ever, and a little confusing, but a prologue's gotta get some information established. I only wrote from Alice's point of view so that I could better explain why she had taken to Arthur so easily._

_I'll try to answer any questions as best as I can, but you may just have to wait for later on in the story to understand certain things. Thanks for reading. 3_


	2. Chapter 1

_Yay for an actual chapter~! Enjoy the confusion that is my writing._

_In this story, Devil!Canada has blond hair, due to the fact that I prefer it to the purple hair. The demons in this story have had modernized civilization (aka computers, internet, etc.) centuries before humans did. They live in a sort of alternate realm that you can only reach if you know exactly how. The concepts of magic and demons in this are entirely my own creation. There is not any set inspiration for it._

* * *

"_Tell me why, tell me why, no one ever tells me why: why they hate me and despise me when I haven't done a thing. In the rain all I feel is this never ending chill, but a trillion, trillion, trillion years had left me freezing cold."_

* * *

**London, England. August 13****th****, 1863.**

Arthur Kirkland strutted down the busy street confidently, his wonderful mother right by his side. Today was his 13th birthday, and his mother wanted to spoil him properly. She always treated him like he was a little angel, and he'd be damned if he didn't live up to her ideal image of him.

Despite being an immature age, Arthur always did his best to be a perfect little gentleman for his mother. He always said please and thank you, he held open doors for strangers, and said hello to and complimented just about everyone he met. Everyone found him absolutely irresistible.

Well, everyone but his father. His father knew that no matter how wonderful he seemed, there was something off about the boy. He never believed that children could be perfect, but Arthur seemed to prove him wrong at every moment.

"Just let me know if you see anything you like, alright Artie?" his mother reminded him with an adoring smile.

He smiled and nodded. "I know, mother. Thank you for taking me shopping."

His father grunted. "Alice, the whole concept of a birthday present is that he's not supposed to know what it is before he gets it."

"Oh, hush, Sean." She waved him off. "Arthur is thoroughly unpredictable when it comes to his interests. Last year it was books, but the year before it was painting!"

"We are supposed to be the ones who tell him what to do," Sean insisted angrily.

Alice shot him a glare. "Such a horrible way of thinking. You're just like my parents."

Arthur let a small smirk slide onto his face as his parents bickered. Ah, how he loved his mother. She loved him regardless of what he did, and practically let him get away with murder; she was always finding a way to stick up for him. Even when the priest had accused him of being possessed by a demon, Alice simply waved him off, saying that he had no right to accuse a beautiful boy such as himself of such a thing.

As they continued down the street, they passed by an apothecary shop, where Arthur found himself stopping. He stared into the small shop, gazing excitedly at the various ingredients. There were also some dusty books tucked away in the back…undoubtedly books of various incantations, Arthur thought to himself. He'd heard of witches disguising magic shops as apothecaries, but he didn't quite believe them…now he was forming some second opinions.

Noticing that his parents were walking far ahead, still distracted by their ridiculous argument, he silently slipped into the store without anyone noticing. He immediately headed to the back of the shop, fully intent on looking at one of the old tomes. The shopkeeper eyed him suspiciously.

"Boy, what do you think you're doing?"

He shot the man a charming smile, but his eyes held that dark little glint he possessed whenever he was planning something.

"I'd like to purchase one of your spell books, sir."

His eyes widened. He was shocked that this seemingly innocent boy had found out his forbidden secret so quickly.

"Alright, who put you up to this?" he asked, a tone of caution apparent in his voice. "If that damned priest is trying to use children to finally get a confession out of me, then I swear-"

"I'm not here because of that git of a priest," Arthur cut in coolly. "I am by far the least of your worries in that respect. I simply wish to expand my knowledge of the art you call witchcraft."

"Well…I suppose you've come to the right place then. Take a look around."

He nodded and began browsing through the tomes, barely flinching at all the dust that flew off of them. The time-worn pages were brimming with information, from the most basic spells to complex incantations. He grinned evilly as he skimmed through the text, quickly building up a pile of books he wished to buy.

"They're 20 pounds apiece, boy," the shopkeeper scolded as he saw there were more than 15 books piled up. "These aren't exactly easy to come by, and I won't sell them for less."

Arthur frowned but nodded in understanding, putting several books back. He ended up choosing just two books, one titled in faded print that was illegible, the other written entirely in Latin. He quickly paid for his books and walked out with them safely stowed away in a satchel the shopkeeper had provided him with.

A few blocks down he saw his mother and father searching frantically for him. He sighed melodramatically and jogged down to meet them. Alice quickly wrapped her arms around him when she saw him.

"Oh, Arthur, don't disappear like that ever again!" She was scolding yet relieved at the same time. "You gave us a heart attack."

"I'm sorry, mother," he apologized as he hugged her.

She took his hand firmly in hers. "Come on, let's go find you that birthday present and then go home."

Arthur nodded as they began window-shopping once more, all too aware of his father glaring daggers at the satchel secured around his neck.

* * *

**Oxford, England. February 17****th****, 1764.**

_The lithe blond boy clutched his knees, crying gently to himself. He hadn't done anything wrong, honest! He had just been talking with his secret friend, a black-haired boy about his own age, the only one who was nice to him. Admittedly, his friend wasn't exactly human, but that didn't mean anything. It's not like he was possessed or some evil creature._

_ So now here he was, locked in the confines of the dark, stone room, the only light shining in the high-set barred window from the moon. He couldn't help but realize at that moment how cruel and judgmental humans could be. He was only 6, for God's sake! So what if his best friend was a demon? He was better than all these horrible beings who called him names he dare not repeat, lest he begin believing them himself._

_ "I-I only wanted a friend," he whispered to himself between heart-wrenching sobs. "Is that so much to ask?"_

_ As soon as the words escaped his mouth, the heavy door quietly creaked open, allowing a small head to poke inside and rest cerulean eyes on the miserable blond. The small boy to whom said eyes and head belonged to crept into the room, hastily making his way over to the teary-eyed Brit._

_ "Arthur…" he mumbled softly as he kneeled beside him and gave him a tight hug. "I'm so sorry… this is all my fault."_

_ Arthur clung to the dark-haired boy, trying to convey his fear and sorrow through his death-grip on the taller's shirt. He sobbed into the soft material, leaving wet stains in the white fabric._

_ "A-Alfred…don't leave me," he pleaded, emerald orbs shining with tears. "P-please, h-help me. Take me away from here."_

_ Alfred offered the smaller boy a sad smile. "I can't do that…but I can do something else. I can promise you that you won't have to suffer for long."_

_ "Wh-what are you talking about?" the blond asked somewhat panickedly._

_ He simply pressed his lips to Arthur's messy mop of hair, whispering softly, "You'll disappear from this time, Arthur. You'll remember me and what happened to you, but you'll be trapped in limbo for a while. But when a willing guardian takes you in, you will join him in a new era. Then, I'll find you, and we can be happy."_

_ "I-I don't understand." Arthur's eyes began to flutter as he felt an overwhelming sense of tiredness taking root in his body._

_ "You will, Artie." The blond smiled sleepily at the affectionate name and leaned his head against Alfred's shoulder, starting to doze off. "Sweet dreams."_

_ The next morning, the priest came into the prison-like room to exorcise the boy, only to find an utterly appalling sight drawn out before his eyes. The boy lay peacefully on the ground, eyes closed with a contented smile gracing his lips, pale as a sheet and obviously lifeless. A black rose rested against his chest, and written on the wall behind him, in what appeared to be blood, were four simple words:_

"_**Martyr of False Judgment."**_

* * *

**Demon Realm of Hellion. August 13****th****, 1863 (human years).**

In the darkness of the bedroom, a dark lump began to stir, groaning with tiredness. A light flicked on, revealing the lump to be a dark-haired man with the brightest blue eyes anyone could possibly have. He had black horns emerging from his mess of hair, curving down gently to frame his slightly pointed ears, and his black wings fluttered a bit as he stretched his arms.

He ran a hand through his hair with a yawn, wincing at the brightness until his eyes adjusted. He lazily crawled out from the sheets, boxer-clad, and randomly grabbed a shirt and a pair of pants, which both happened to black. He slipped on some sneakers and his favorite bomber jacket just as someone knocked on his door. He answered, looking slightly ticked off with his tail twitching slightly, but his expression softened into a smile when he saw that it was his best friend, Matthew.

"Good morning, Alfred," the blond demon greeted cheerfully, always in that gentle, lilting voice of his.

"Hey Mattie," Alfred responded with a grin, already much more awake now that he had someone to keep him entertained. The man got bored ridiculously quickly; he was practically a child at heart.

"How are you feeling?" Matthew asked. "You drank a lot last night. I was kind of worried."

Alfred waved off the concern with a laugh.

"It'll take more than some alcohol to dampen my spirits."

"Well that's the truth," the shorter man responded with a little laugh.

Alfred just rolled his eyes, but they sparkled with a familiar playfulness that was refreshingly different in contrast to their friends. Speaking of which…

An arm casually looped itself around Matthew's shoulders, pulling him firmly to a warm body. He knew who it was before he even glanced up to see Francis, his old playmate. He had been trying to get into his pants for the past year now, but much to Francis's dismay, Matthew wouldn't have any of it.

"_Bonjour mon ami," _he greeted in a voice that was flirtatious, to put it innocently. The man had this odd infatuation with French culture, and had developed a natural accent and knack for the language after years of living in Paris.

"Hello, Francis." Matthew carefully kept a friendly smile in place, not wanting to make the taller blond believe they were anything more than just that: friends.

"So tell me, what are you up to this lovely morning?" Francis asked with a seductive smile. Matthew would have been lying if he said it didn't make him a little bit pleased to see such a look directed at him, given the man's low self-esteem.

"Just talking to Alfie."

"'Sup Francis?" Alfred said the words friendly enough, but the grin on his face was quite clearly forced now, as opposed to his usual carefree smiles.

Francis seemed to narrow his eyes in what seemed to be distaste before quickly settling back into a charming persona of seduction and smiles.

"Ah, now I remember why I came over here in the first place. That odd Russian human wished to speak to you. Something about the year 1764? I hardly see why a year that was a century ago matters…"

Alfred's eyes widened instantly, a hint of some unknown emotion shining in them. Matthew couldn't quite make it out: shock? Fear? Regret? Or simply remembrance? Whatever it was, it clearly put the normally boisterous man off, causing him to quickly excuse himself, running away in the direction of his Russian friend's house.

Matthew never really understood why the strange human lived around all these demons with his lover, but he was polite enough not to pry. He cast a glance up at Francis, who was eyeing him like he was a piece of meat. He quickly shrugged his arm off and stepped away a bit, happy for the newfound distance between them.

It wasn't that he didn't like Francis; no, he could very well argue his feelings toward the man as just the opposite. But he didn't want to stain their pristine, innocent childhood friendship with something that would very likely end disastrously.

"Matthew, teddy bear, are you alright?" Francis's voice drew him from his thoughts.

"Hm? Were you saying something?"

A small smile slid on the taller man's face. It was different than his usual expression: it was full of a gentleness Matthew hadn't seen since they were 8.

"How would you like to go on a little vacation with me?"

* * *

Alfred banged insistently on Ivan's door, a million possibilities racing through his head. The Russian was the only one he'd trusted with his little secret, due merely to the fact that he knew he could trust him not to judge him or tell.

The tall, silver-haired man opened the door with a casual, "Da?"

"Francis told me you had something to tell me?" Alfred got straight to the point. He had waited a century for news of his old friend's return. He wasn't about to let the opportunity to find him again slip through his fingers.

"Come in," Ivan ordered, allowing Alfred to slip in the house.

Yao, Ivan's Chinese lover, sat casually on the couch, leafing through Alfred's childhood journal (most certainly _not_ a diary) that he'd left with Ivan, so he could know the whole story. He glanced up at Alfred and gave a curt nod.

"I believe this boy has returned to the human world." Yao stated this more as a fact than speculation. Another reason Alfred trusted these two: Yao was incredibly insightful, especially considering he was merely a human. A human with psychic abilities, but nevertheless.

"His name is Arthur, da?" Ivan asked.

Alfred just nodded. "What do you know about him?"

Yao closed his eyes in concentration. "He is 13-years-old, living with Sean and Alice Kirkland. Today happens to be his birthday. He seems to be causing quite a bit of suspicion in his father, who believes him to practice witchcraft. And he'd be quite correct. Arthur is taking up magic as of right now, in order to try and reunite with you."

Alfred couldn't help the little loving smile that slid on his face. While he had promised that he would find Arthur, Arthur seemed to believe the opposite to be true. Knowing how stubborn the Brit could be, even as a young child, Alfred decided to let his friend test his skills and find him. Even if it took several more years, compared to how long Alfred had already been waiting, it would fly by like seconds.

"Are you going to go find him?" Ivan questioned, but his little smirk revealed he already knew the answer.

"Nah," Alfred drawled lazily with a grin. "Too lazy."

Yao started to lecture him on his improper behavior, but he wasn't listening in the slightest. His mind was swimming with thoughts of Arthur. What would the blond look like now? Would he still be as irritably sweet? And, arguably most importantly, would he still want to be friends or something more…?


End file.
